The Way You Lie
by TheGoofyCat
Summary: I guess you could say I knew he was trouble from the moment our eyes met. He was a monster, a cold hearted monster and I married him! Violence/Curse Words/Abuse [Ace/Oc]


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Ace Merrill.

**Authors Note:** New story alert! And it's rated 'M' what the hell? Okay so this is an Ace story but I'm warning you he is not going to be very nice in this, he'll be one evil son-of-a-bitch, no love from him in this story! So this will feature lots of swear words, domestic violence etc so I thought it would be best to rate this M.

Hope you like it!

This story is inspired by Love The Way You Lie Part II by Rihanna (I like Eminem but I prefer the one without him in it), so take a listen, I was totally oblivious there was a part 2 to the song until I was on youtube a couple of days ago and it inspired me to write this.

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><p><em><strong>The Way You Lie<br>**_**TheGoofyCat**

**1970**

I guess you could say I knew Ace Merrill was trouble the day I first laid my eyes on him, but it's not that simple, you see me and Ace were what some like to call High School Sweethearts but if you really knew Ace, sweetheart wasn't in his nature. Sophomore year was when he first noticed me and by our Junior year I was attached to his hip, he was mine and I was his and everybody knew that, looking back now I realise he never really was mine, but me? I was definitely his.

I was the prettiest thing this town had seen since Rosalie Owen, who may I add had skipped town back in fifty-five, had her sights set on Hollywood, she was going to be the next big thing, a big time actress. You can spend your whole life getting told you're something special and all it takes is some wise guy to knock you down a peg or two and it crashes your world and that's exactly what happened to poor Rosalie, last I heard she met a guy and popped out a couple of kids, she never did make it on the big screen.

I grew up as 'The Pretty One' the girl with the looks but not much else. Being the prettiest girl in school I had popularity thrust upon me, girls figured that if they were my friend it would make them beautiful too, I would make them look good but in God's honest truth they just made me look even better. I know that's not a nice thing to say but it's the truth.

Ace always had to have the best of the best so I was in his sights long before we met, If I knew then that my life would be like it is right now things would be a hell of a lot different. You can take the girl out of the gutter but you can't take the stench out of her clothes! No matter how hard I try to cleanse myself it will never leave.

Before it all, before him! My life was just fine, I had my family, my friends, my looks, a whole life ahead of me and now I'm? Well as he likes to call it, 'Used goods.'.

Fuck! I was a fool, all I have to do is look at these bruises to see that. I take the blame, I was warned! They all said, "Honey, if you marry him your life is over.' Never a truer word spoken.

In this town you don't get sympathy. But I don't need it, I haven't felt sympathy towards me since the day we said 'I do.' Honestly? I think they're just waiting for the day that they can look me in the eyes and utter, 'I told you so.' and it looks like today isn't going to be the day, all I want to do is pack my bags, take the baby and run, but I can't!

"Where's the dinner?" He comes in demanding. My afternoon spent cooking a chicken, his afternoon spent drinking down at the pool hall.

With all my strength I bite my tongue and tell him. "On the stove." But what I really want to say is. 'The place it always fucking is, you shit-head!' But I learnt the hard way to not swear in front of him.

I watch him as he slumps himself on the chair and I bring the plate to the table and watch him tuck in. All I can think about is did I cook the potatoes? Did I burn the chicken? He says nothing and I retreat back, a wave of relief, I'm safe for now. I've under-cooked the potatoes and over-cooked the chicken too many times in our marriage.

I excuse myself and go upstairs to put the clothes away and there in the corner of the wardrobe is my old wedding dress, my fingers run through the fabric as I look at myself in the mirror, I bring the dress to my body and clutch it to my waist and all I can see in the mirror, is my nineteen year old self staring back at me, innocence shattered and a life full of naivety ahead of her.

I run a hand through my sandy hair, that has seen much better days, I can't remember the last time I washed it, It's matted just like my life and I begin to wonder how a simple game of chicken started this all...


End file.
